#as far we know they work together to gather the dead and. that's it

[firehananas]

While doing reach for my owns OCs, I was surprised (while I shouldn't because if Sanada do something right it's definitely the symbolism of her characters) that Eddie is incredibly Thanatos coded.

✅ Psychopompe of sort (carried the bodies to hell/eternal rest), guardian of dead (literally one of the meaning of Eddie's name: Guardian of Tombs) ✅ Poppy theme (its seeds are narcoleptic and help create morphine, related to Thanatos, Hypnos and Morpheus in myth. Other than the sleep like apparence of dead, it's also because ingesting too much of it can be deadly.) ✅ *Anime only* butterfly theme (in Ancient Greek, butterflies are a symbolism for the human soul - it's also why Psyché is given butterfly wings, as she becomes the goddess of Soul. Sometimes, Thanatos is also represented with butterflies)

Both the flower and the insect are also symbolism for the beauty yet the brevity of life. ✅ Give peaceful/unpainful deaths (Thanatos was originally just the Death, then as the myth goes on, the brutals deaths were given to his sisters, the Keres) ✅ Big Family (For Thanatos: A twin brother who had A TON of children including Morpheus + all the others Nyx's children, being his siblings. Mason family is smaller in comparaison (4 boys) but they had a zoo in their house soooo...)

✅ Buttmonkey (Thanatos on paper is scary and inflexible, yet this dude manages to get caught in a bag by Sisyphus.)

(I mean.)

(And he also loses to Heracles for some reasons.)

(As is Eddie for the Angels who always ended up with the short stick).

Now I can see a more twisted vision of Thanatos/Hypnos with Albert/Eddie, so this will be more a theory/interpretation than a true comparaison but still.

Hypnos and Thanatos are twin brothers, and sometimes co-workers.

Hypnos, god of sleep, is represented with white wings and is beloved by humans and gods alike as they allow them to rest, to be at peace. This love is reciprocated.

Thanatos is represented with black wings. In opposition to his brother, he is hated and feared by humans and gods alike, but as Hypnos, the feeling is shared (though the fear is replaced by distaste).

Now, Eddie and Albert. They aren't twin brothers but I still feel there is some parallelism.

Albert is the "favorite" one, despite being the violent one. While saying he hates everything and everyone is probably exaggerated, he is in so much pain, frustration (and delusional), he projects on others, especially the weaks (and Eddie) and search to destroy them.

Meanwhile, Eddie is the "unfavorite" but also the kind one. The one who wants pets (and people) to be at peace. He feels that by 'owning' people (by killing them) he can make them 'happy' and connect with them that way (hence his interest in Ray).

All this to say that, somehow, Albert is like a Thanatos rejecting his role (as a gravedigger) and his family (becoming ironically more 'peaceful' than his so loving brother), while Eddie is a sort of Hypnos who had gone wrong by embracing his brother's (Thanatos) duty.

[eveninglakehomeworld]

hi friends and lovers, I've gathered a small collection of dialogues from Zevran in DA:O regarding Antiva & the Crows.

I got this together mostly for myself, but thought I'd share in case anyone who is maybe looking to flesh out their new Crow OC, write fanfic involving Crow characters, or is looking for a refresher on early Crow lore would like something to reference. I trimmed down dialogues a bit, so mostly just information relevant to the Crows, Antiva in general, and Zevran's own attitudes about being an assassin are present.

this post has dialogues from Zev's recruitment event and a couple of early game camp conversations. because it's only a handful of dialogues, this is, ostensibly, part 1 of several. I plan to post more as I progress through my replay of origins. enjoy! <3

Recruitment

Warden: "What are the Antivan Crows?"

Leliana: I can tell you that. They are an order of assassins out of Antiva. Very powerful, and renowned for always getting the job done... so to speak. Someone went to great expense to hire this man.

Zevran: Quite right. I'm surprised you haven't heard much of the Crows out here. Back where I come from, we're rather infamous.

Warden: "You came all the way from Antiva?"

Zevran: Not precisely. I was in the neighborhood when the offer came. The Crows get around, you see.

[After being asked if he's loyal to Loghain]

Zevran: Beyond that, no, I'm not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service.

Warden: "And now that you've failed that service?"

Zevran: Well, that's between Loghain and the Crows. And between the Crows and myself.

Warden: "When were you to see him next?"

Zevran: I wasn't. If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results... if he didn't already know. If I had failed, I would be dead. Or I should be, at least, as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then.

Warden: "How much were you paid?"

Zevran: I wasn't paid anything. The Crows, however, were paid quite handsomely. Or so I understand. Which does make me about as poor as a chantry mouse, come to think of it. Being an Antivan Crow isn't for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest.

Warden: "Then why are you one?"

Zevran: Well, aside from a distinct lack of ambition, I suppose it's because I wasn't give much of a choice. The Crows bought me young. I was a bargain, too, or so I'm led to believe. But don't let my sad story influence you. The Crows aren't so bad. They keep one well supplied: Wine, women, men. Whatever you happen to fancy. Though, the whole severance package is garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I'd really think twice about it.

Warden: "Aren't you at least loyal to your employers?"

Zevran: Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further.

Warden: "I'm listening. Make it quick."

Zevran: Well, here's the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead.

Warden: "And what's to stop you from finishing the job later?"

Zevran: To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I think I've paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can't touch. Even if I did kill you now, they might kill me just on the principle of failing the first time. Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with you.

Warden: "Won't they come after you?"

Zevran: Possibly. I happen to know their wily ways, however. I can protect myself, as well as you. Not that you seem to need much help. And if not, well, it's not as if I had many alternatives to start with, is it?

Warden: "Why would I want your service?"

Zevran: Why? Because I am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more... sophisticated... now that my attempts have failed.

A few early game camp conversations

Conversation 1 Warden: "What does it take to become an assassin?"

Zevran: Well, the Crows would have you believe that it is an involved process that takes years of training, the sort that tests both your resolve and your endurance. Survive that process and maybe, just maybe, you're good enough to start being considered one of them. But quite frankly the truth is that all it requires is a desire to kill people for a living. It's surprising how well one can do in such a field.

Warden: "It doesn't take any special skill?"

Zevran: I don't know about that. It's simply a slightly different skill set from your average killer, as I see it. An assassin simply specializes in striking from stealth... and in maximizing that first attack to be as lethal as possible. Debilitating your foe, either by poison or by crippling their limbs, makes any follow-up combat you need to engage in that much simpler.

Warden: "That sounds like it could be useful."

Zevran: See? Getting paid for the act is beside the point. An assassin is more a tactical choice than a lifestyle. Of course, the Crows like to pretend that their abilities are trade secrets, shrouded in shadows and wrapped in a blanket of mystery. So let's just keep this between you and me, shall we, hmm?

Conversation 2 Warden: "Why did you want to leave the Crows, exactly?"

Zevran: Well, now, I imagine that's a very fair question. Being an assassin, after all, is a living, at least as far as such things go. I was simply never given the opportunity to choose another way. So if that choice presents itself, why should I not seize upon it?

Warden: "You didn't choose the Crows?"

Zevran: Mm? To be truthful, I didn't even know the Crows existed when I joined them. I was but a boy of seven when I was purchased. For three sovereigns, I'm told. Which is a good price, considering I was all ribs and bone and didn't know the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end. The Crows buy all their assassins that way. Buy them young, raise them to know nothing else but murder. And if you do poorly in your training, you die.

Warden: "That sounds awful."

Zevran: "Oh, I don't know about that. The Crows who are actually good enough to survive come to enjoy some of the benefits. In Antiva, being a Crow gets you respect. It gets you wealth. It gets you women... and men, or whatever it is you might fancy. But that does mean doing what is expected of you, always. And it means being expendable. It's a cage, if a gilded cage. Pretty, but confining. [note: I transcribed the first line of the last section as it was written in the subtitles because it seemed to make more sense in context, but when Zevran speaks it aloud he actually says "That does not mean doing what is expected of you." presumably an editing error, but can't be 100% positive which is the intended message.]

[After being asked what he thinks his future might hold]

Zevran: As for what I'll do in the future... presuming that there is one... I truly can't imagine. It might be interesting to go into business for myself, for a change. Far away from Antiva, of course. For now, naturally, I go where you go.

Warden: "Won't the Crows eventually find you?"

Zevran: [laughs] Eventually can be a very, very long time if one plays one's cards right. Come, now. Enough chit-chat. Talking about the Crows summons them, you know. Any Antivan fishwife could tell you so.

Conversation 3 Warden: "Do you actually enjoy being an assassin?"

Zevran: And why not? There are many things to enjoy about being a Crow in Antiva. You are respected. You are feared. The authorities go out of their way to overlook your trespasses. Even the rewards are nothing to turn your nose up at. As for the killing part, well... some people simply need assassinating. Or do you disagree?

Warden: "You've never killed an innocent?"

Zevran: Now there's an interesting word, "innocent." How many men do you know who can claim to truly be innocent? But if you're talking generalities, such as children and relatives and bystanders and such... never on purpose, but it happens. It's unfortunate, but death comes to us all. If not me, then some wasting disease. Or a fall down the stairs. Or at the hands of a darkspawn. It's all relative in the end.

Warden: "I suppose that's true."

Zevran: "Death happens," as we like to say. And when I get paid for it, death happens more often. As far as enjoying the act of killing itself, why not? There is a certain artistry to the deed, the pleasure of sinking your blade into their flesh and knowing that their life is in your hands.

Warden: "I know what you mean."

Zevran: There are many things I did not enjoy about being a Crow, of course. Having no choice, being treated as an expendable commodity, the rules... oh, so many rules! But, simply being an assassin? I like it just fine. I will continue to do it, if I can, even if I am not a Crow. Honestly, could you picture me doing something else?

Conversation 4 [note: I trimmed this one down a lot bc it's just one of the ones where he tells you about a job and there's not a lot to be gleaned about Antiva, how the Crows operate, etc] [In response to being asked, "The Crows were willing to anger the Circle of Magi?"]

Zevran: In Antiva, nobody is too important to escape the reach of the Crows. They have killed kings and queens. That's simply how it is.

[After elaborating on how he fumbled an assassination attempt and the mark died accidentally, instead of by his hand]

Zevran: Then I found out she had told the driver to take her to Genellan instead. She has planned to lose me in the provinces. I would have looked very foolish to the Crows. As it was, my master was very impressed that I had done such a fine job of making it look like an accident. The Circle of Magi was unaware of foul play, and everyone was happier all around.

Conversation 5 Warden: "Tell me a little about Antiva."

Zevran: Oh? You wish to know about Antiva, do you? The only way to truly appreciate it would be to go there. It is a warm place, not cold and harsh like this Ferelden. In Antiva it rains often, but the flowers are always in bloom... or so the saying goes.

Warden: "Don't you want to go back?"

Zevran: [sighs] It is not really a matter of wanting to go back. I cannot go. At least not yet. I hail from the glorious Antiva City, home to the royal palace. It is a glittering gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City. Do you come from someplace comparable?

Warden: "I'm not from any glittering gem, no."

Zevran: No? That is too bad. If you were, then surely you would spend as much time boasting about it as I do! Hmm. You know what is most odd? We speak of my homeland, and for all its wine and its dark-haired beauties and the lillo flutes of the minstrels... I miss the leather the most.

Warden: "Is that some kind of euphemism?"

Zevran: [laughs] It may as well be! But not this once, no. I mean the smell. For years I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City's leather-making district, in a building where the Crows stored their youngest recruits. Packed in like crates. I grew accustomed to the stench, even though the humans complained of it constantly. To this day the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me most of home more than anything else.

Warden: "That's a little bizarre. There's leather everywhere."

Zevran: Ah, but it's not Antivan leather, is it? I do not know what the Antivan tanners do that is different, but ther is no leather more supple nor more fragrant.

Warden: "You sound like you've been away from home forever."

Zevran: Oh, not so long, I know. It is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly. Before I left, I was tempted to spend what little coin I possessed on leather boots I spotted in a store window. Finest Antivan leather, perfect craftsmanship—ah, but I was a fool to leave them. I thought, "Ah, Zevran, you can buy them when you return as a reward from a job well done." More the fool I, no?

Warden: "Your home is still there, Zevran."

Zevran: True, and it's a comforting thought. One simply never knows what is to come next.

Now, if it is all the same to you, I would prefer not to speak more of Antiva. It makes me wistful and hungry for a proper meal.

Bonus banter snippet because I found it amusing:

Morrigan: You assassin types have a death wish, I see.

Zevran: [laughs] Only the really good ones.

[wasyago]

How much of Tango and Pearl are still in there? How much are they vaguely aware of their actions and surroundings, feverishly shambling around like zombies, two dead puppets of the caves? Like, the skulk invading their thoughts until their own voices are just a quiet whisper in their own head? Do they remember Etho? Do they feel anger for what he did? Leaving them to die? And, most importantly, has the cave claimed anyone else we might know?

please I’m hungry for TGCAU lore

they are kind of like zombies, yeah! for how aware they are, it's like, they don't really know how they got from one place to the other or how much time has passed, but when the change of scenery is drastic enough they go "‼️" and pay attention for a while until going back to the kind of mindless state they were in.

sculk isn't exactly invading their thoughts, because there's no more their thoughts, it's all somewhat collective. one body feels it more than the other, but everything is still shared. and, well, they died, so. it's a little hard to generate thoughts all on your own when you're dead...

if you remember, sculk in minecraft gathers and stores the exp of a mob that died near it, and then grows and expands using that exp. it works similarly here. the cave gathers the life experiences, memories, life essence, and uses it to grow physically and to expland its "knowledge pool" or something. the cave isn't sentient, it can't talk, but it stores information.

so they do remember etho! but their memories of him are merged together now, and merged with the cave's own memories of him too. etho is a friend, etho left them, etho is almost like them he just needs to return, etho is alive, etho is too far away, etho hurt them, etho is bad, etho is good. there's no cause and effect reasons for their feelings, it's just feelings that they associate with the memories. memories of etho are mostly good, they miss him tho, they need him back.

not sure about any other characters, i kinda want to try and keep the au to only these four. makes it more contained.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate Chapter 20

Trigger Warnings: None

"How are you feeling?" Minho asked as he brushed a loose strand from her face. "I'm worried that is all," Y/N admitted as she cuddled into Minho's chest, wanting to fall asleep again. Y/N had a bit of a stressful night and struggled with being alone late at night. She didn't want to be alone with her thoughts so she found herself knocking on the beta's door who sat up with her and listened to her thoughts. It brought them closer than they were before. Minho even apologised for his awkward behaviour with her, but she brushed it off as there was too much tension going around the house and it was starting to nerve her. "Give Chan some time. He doesn't mean to push you away, it's a lot for him and he isn't someone who likes to express his emotions." Minho explained as he kissed her forehead, trying to soothe her worries even though he was concerned himself. He was worried about Chan. They had gotten over and dealt with the emotions of his uncle before, but now that it had all come to light again, Minho wasn't sure how to make it right. "How about me and you spend the day together?" Minho suggested, "we can cook together, and watch some films. I do have to make a shopping list." "What about the plan with Hongjoong? Minho I'm worried, I've been here six weeks." Y/N stated. "Shh. Me and Jeongin are on it. We have been working on a plan since you have arrived. We have been doing some digging around Hongjoong and your pack to try and prove Hongjoong kidnapped you out of spite." Minho explained. "I don't understand." "The werewolf council far north doesn't particularly like Hongjoong either and is more in favour of cooperating with us, but we need a strong amount of proof to appeal to them. If not then it's a war. Chan doesn't know me and Jeongin have been going out to find stuff." Minho stated as he got up to grab his clothes ready to have a shower, leaving Y/N to her thoughts. Y/N hadn't expected Jeongin and Minho to look into options as soon as she arrived. She wondered what they had found out and if she could help them in the future or the next time they went out.

While Minho was showering, Y/N rummaged through his clothes and put on his hoodie along with his jogging bottoms before heading into the kitchen to make a start. She gathered some ingredients and laid them out. "If you're going to poison them I would take Seungmin out, he is a little shit," Minho stated as he affectionately wrapped his arms around her waist, placing his nose into her hair, breathing in her scent. "I can cook Min," Y/N whispered, feeling slightly shy at his actions. He had never willingly embraced her before it was normally the other way around. She didn't want to ruin it by mentioning it, instead, she allowed him to hold her, watching her chop up somethings. "How is Seungmin a little shit?" Y/N asked, causing the older wolf to scoff. "When is he not? Don't be fooled by him. Seungmin has a sharp tongue and can be very sly." Minho warned playfully as he squeezed her tightly, before letting her go when the door opened to reveal a naked Jisung. Jisung jumped and covered himself with a dead bunny when he saw his little wolf was up and helping the beta. "Uh, me and Innie got some rabbits and deer meat for you," Jisung said nervously as he shuffled towards the counter to drop the bunnies off before scurrying up the stairs. Y/N watched him in amusement as she eyed his naked self, he was incredibly beautiful and he had a cute little ass. "You'll burn it," Minho whispered as he touched Y/N's hand with a knowing look.

The two of them continued to cook while occasionally nudging one another playfully. Once they finished Y/N sent Jisung to wake the others up so they could start eating. The wolves seemed much more eager to eat when they heard their omega helped to cook. Jisung was the first wolf to shove a mouthful of food in, which caused Changbin to smack him around the head. Even Hyunjin appreciated her food despite his unusually quiet behaviour. He was quiet normally but there was always a remark that followed through. Hyunjin could see her concerns so he gave a quick smile and a wave of calm energy. What concerned her was Chan wasn't present at breakfast. "He's gone to work early," Seungmin stated as he noticed her look for him. "What are everyone's plans today?" Y/N asked. "I'm going to the gym with Jisung, Jeongin and Hyunjin today. I would offer but nuna said no gym for you." Changbin gave Y/N a smirk knowing he would eventually get her in the gym at least once. He only wanted her to go so he could be extra close and fulfill his little gym instructor fantasies. "Jeongin and Hyunjin. Yah. I don't need to be bullied today." Jisung's voice was stressed as he thought about the pressure of the two alphas. "If you worked out more you would be fine Hyung!" Jeongin teased causing the older beta to shake his head. "The audacity of this alpha. He's not a little kid anymore." Jisung shook his head at Jeongin's attitude. "I'm still your alpha." Jeongin teased as he stole a piece of Jisung's meat. Y/N watched the two playfully tease each other. It felt normal as if everything was fine. She wanted this forever with them. "Felix, what will you do today?" Y/N asked as she looked at the blonde wolf whose eyes couldn't reach hers. He felt he did not deserve to look at her after what he had done. "Uh. I'm going to go for a run this morning." Felix answered awkwardly. "I'm gonna stay with you and Minho hyung." Seungmin interrupted as he gave Minho a playful look, causing the elder to glare. He did not want his date ruined by the younger beta. He was in trouble when he wanted to be. "Can't you go somewhere else?" Minho asked, a glare forming on his face as he watched the younger wolf playfully kiss the omega's neck and give the beta a sly look. "Why? Is there no room to love your favourite beta too?" Seungmin slurred. "Heathen!" Minho flared flashing his amber eyes at the wolf. "It's okay Min. Seungmin can clean the kitchen today." Y/N demanded as she flashed the wolf a look as she passed him the towel. Seungmin looked at the towel as if it was a foreign object. "Uh. What is this? I don't clean." Seungmin argued. "Uh. You will. Hyunjin can alpha order you." Y/N sassed, causing the wolves to either choke or grin. "No. No. Let me try." Jeongin said excitedly, "Seungmin go and clean up. Did it work?" "No I am not. I'm not a housewife." Seungmin argued. "Seungmin do as Y/N says all day." Hyunjin commanded his eyes glowing their usual dark shade of red causing Seungmin to huff into the kitchen. "You've got to put meaning into it and force," Hyunjin explained to the younger alpha who was scratching his head awkwardly. "We can practice on Jisung." "Uh, huh. No." Jisung laughed nervously at the thought of being the guinea pig today. Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile before getting up to hand a grumpy wolf the dirty plates.

Minho had to admit it was funny to watch the wolf doing chores at least once in his life, but the only concerning thing was the wolf was putting some of them in the wrong places. He had even seen Seungmin toss the bowl into the wrong cupboard. Y/N pushed Minho into the living room so they could watch a film together. "Don't be mean, Minho." Y/N chided as she wrapped her arms around the beta's waist. "What? He looks like an angry puppy." Minho laughed even louder when he heard Seungmin's growls come from the kitchen. Y/N shook her head and dragged the wolf into the living room so they could watch a film together. It worked out successfully until the young beta interrupted them every fifteen minutes to question where something went. Minho knew he was doing it on purpose because every time Minho snuggled closer Seungmin popped up. Every time Minho went to kiss her, the obnoxious wolf would present himself with a confused innocent look about not knowing where it goes. Minho was incredibly frustrated. He wanted to spend time with his omega but it was becoming impossible. All Minho wanted was to show his love for the female wolf. As much as Y/N found it amusing she could feel the frustration radiating off of the beta so as soon as Seungmin left the room to place the random object back to its rightful place, the female wolf threw herself at the beta, smashing their lips together. Minho didn't expect it but allowed her to assault his lips as he quickly tried to match her pace. His hand reached to her back as he slid his leg over her waist drawing her closer. His tongue finally entered the cavern of her mouth. Minho didn't want to be too invasive but he also wanted to show his love for her. "Wow! Did Minho Hyung have his first kiss? Who would have thought." Seungmin taunted causing the wolves to jump and a snarl erupting from the beta's throat. Minho stood there with a shit-eating grin as he held a vase. "Didn't you know? Minho has never kissed anyone before." Seungmin snickered as he watched Minho's ears start to turn red in embarrassment. "I mean you stole his first kiss a few weeks ago, but Minho is a virgin at everything. You know-" "Outside. Now. Off you go." Y/N ordered as she waved the annoying wolf outside, before shutting the door on him. Seungmin rolled his eyes and walked back through the door when she stopped him. "I wasn't joking, you can stay outside all day," Y/N stated. "Don't be so mean little puppy, it doesn't suit you." Seungmin chided. "No. Then don't be a little shit. You're staying outside." Y/N ordered knowing he couldn't do anything about it since Hyunjin ordered him to follow her instructions today.

Y/N headed back to the living room to see an embarrassed Minho flitting around the kitchen as he looked for things to add to his shopping list. Y/N felt bad for him. Not because of him being a virgin but the fact that Seungmin blurted it out was horrible. It was kind of attractive to Y/N that Minho and Jisung were virgins but she also didn't want it to set an expectation because she wasn't a virgin. "Minho," Y/N called out as she looked at his shopping list and added some things to it. "Minho. Look at me." Y/N called out, making the wolf slowly turn around. His face held no expression and his eyes didn't reach hers. "It doesn't matter. None of it does." Y/N promised. The beta nodded his head and turned back around causing Y/N to pull at him. "Don't hide." "I need to go shopping, little wolf," Minho stated before grabbing her face to kiss her forehead. Y/N stared at the spot he once was and sighed. Why do they all go funny when there are problems? Why don't they talk to me?

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @leezanetheofficial @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @linocz @itzreetal987 @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @ihttinniee @kingdomofpentagon @pixie0627 @tsunderelino @notevenheretbh1 @catlove83 @h0rnyp0t @hash2013 @hyunmikim

[uhohbestie]

There Are Monsters Nearby [Chapter 42]

🏜 Pairing: Grian/Scar

🧟‍♂️ Tags: zombie AU, zombie apocalypse, lovers to exes, slow burn, eventual reconciliation

📖 Summary: The day after Scar breaks up with Grian, the dead come back to life. Knowing that venturing out alone is a death sentence, the sudden onset of the apocalypse forces them to stick together despite their tensions. In the wreckage of the world, they're forced to survive side-by-side, coming to terms with the fact that—try as they might—there's still no one they trust more than each other.

Chapter 42 - The story of There Are Monsters Nearby concludes as Scar and Grian turn away from their past and look towards the future.

📝 Words: 11,088

🔗 Link: Read Chapter 42 on AO3

—

“I want you to get Pop Tarts,” Grian says, his attention cast to the side while Scar works, looking towards the settlement in the distance. It’s a fair ways off, looking more like a grey-brown smudge from where they stand— a collection of RVs and camper vans clustered close together in the lee of a grassy ridge, the surrounding hills fringed in sparse junipers and hardy looking spruce saplings. There’s an open space between them, dotted with small lumps that Scar knows are grazing cattle and a clustered herd of goats.

The ruins of a city lay further off to the east, the handful of buildings not blackened from fire standing empty and abandoned. It’s from there that the zombies have been drifting out, a perpetual source of mindless, wandering horror. Though now, thanks to Scar’s aim and Grian’s tenacious knack for violence, the tide will hopefully have been stemmed to some degree.

“And whatever milk and cheese they’ve got. I saw all their animals, there’s no way they don’t have dairy to spare.”

It’s an endearing quirk that Grian has adopted ever since it became clear his diet was permanently changed. He likes to pick things for Scar to eat now, planning and suggesting his meals with whatever they scavenge, hunt, and barter. He’s never been a good cook, not even before the world fell apart, but it’s been sweet the way he's applied himself to improving, the two times he gave Scar food poisoning already becoming fond memories in their own way.

When the last zombie’s head has been separated from its body, Scar yanks a glove onto his hand and begins gathering them all, shoving each one into a canvas sack that he uses for the sole purpose of demonstrating their worth to any sceptical marks they come across. Once he’s done, he sets the bag down, putting out his arm and drawing Grian in close.

“Good work out there,” he compliments, pressing a kiss to the top of his partner’s head. Grian’s hair is clean and smells incredibly good—like sandalwood and something crisp—everything about him well-maintained, despite the state of the world around them. “You really treated those googlies like you had a score to settle.”

Without hesitation Grian leans into Scar’s touch, the easy return of his affection still a novelty, despite how many weeks Scar’s been allowed and able to enjoy it.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” he offers, his words mumbled sweetly into the thick flannel of Scar’s shirt. “You’re getting to have a real hawk-eye with your aim, you know.”

“I love it when you say I’m a hot guy,” Scar preens, deliberately mishearing him. “Got a real nice ring to it.”

[ read more ]

—

Chapter 42! 380k words and ten months later, we are so happy to announce that we've come to the end of our story. While there's still so much more of TAMN left that we plan to write and share, this portion is over, and we couldn't be happier. Thank you so, so much for going on this journey with us, and we hope you enjoy the epilogue and ending of There Are Monsters Nearby 💜🧡

You can read the whole fic thus-far in the link below ↓↓↓

You may not rest now, There Are Monsters Nearby (on ao3!)

[lovelytsunoda]

the residence | yuki tsunoda

summary: after the murder of a foreign secretary on australian soil, yuki tsunoda, who attended the very same party, must own up to a rather compromising alibi

pairing: foreign dignitary!yuki x pastry chef! reader

warnings: smut 18+ they start making out in the kitchen but then move to an insanely fancy room because this party is in some fuckass vintage hotel. somebody does d*e, but he's barely mentioned. takes 'compliments to the chef' to a new meaning, anal fingering, mirrors on the hotel ceiling, unprotected sex

"mr. tsunoda, why are you wearing a dead man's shirt?"

all eyes were on yuki, and he didn't like it. his hands went clammy, and the back of his neck began to sweat. "what are you talking about?" he asked "this is my shirt."

members of the japanese foreign ministry were gathered in the hotel's ornate sitting room, a ghostly rennasaince portrait staring down at him from over the fireplace while he tried to come up with a non incriminating answer.

"i mean that shirt is far too large for a man of your size." the detective crossed her arms over her chest, staring straight at him. "mr. tusnoda, you understand that this is a matter of national security?"

his face was red now, cheeks heated and rosy as he played with his collar. "i can explain. i really can."

"then start talking. a man is dead. a very important man from a foreign government that we were supposed to be fixing our relations with!"

"i was having sex at the time of the murder." he spoke quietly.

the detective cocked her head. "i'm sorry, i didn't catch that."

"i was in bed when the murder happened!" he shouted. "we were in the dead man's room, but i didn't know until afterwards. the buttons came off my shirt, so i took one of his from the closet."

behind him, he heard the defence minister cough, obviously stifling a laugh.

"yeah, that's right! i can get laid too, jackass!"

"boys!" the detective scolded. "that's enough. mr. tsunoda, i'm going to need someone to corroborate that story. can you tell me who you were with?"

he swallowed nervously. "the pastry chef. i think her name is y/n. please, if her boss finds out, she'll lose her job."

TWO HOURS EARLIER

the sound of glass crashing against the kitchen tile was quieter than it should have been against the muffled soundtrack coming in from the other room, where a concert had been hastily pulled together by event staff on account of the fact that miley cyrus was staying in the same hotel, and that the entertainment had dropped out at the last minute.

"what the fuck do you mean i can't do my dessert? mike, the whole evening counted on it!"

"i don't want any open flames in the dining room!"

"wait," yuki said calmly, trying to diffuse the situation. "what was the dessert?"

the chef looked at him, eyes narrowed. "who the fuck is he and who let him in my kitchen?"

her cheeks were damp and she was obviously sweating from the heat inside the industrial kitchen. there were faint pit stains on her black blouse, her hair held back by a floral bandana. her shirt was unbuttoned just enough that yuki could see the saint christopher pendant nestled between her boobs.

"tsunoda yuki, ma'am. from the japanese foreign ministry. what was the dessert you were making?"

"crepes suzette. they're flambeed at the table."

yuki grinned. "i think the prime minister would love that."

her face morphed from an angry glare to a giddy smile as she turned back to mike. "yuki-san can stay. you can get fucked because i'm making crepes suzette whether you like it or not. now get out of my fucking kitchen."

"y/n, please! i don't want your dessert burning down teh fucking hotel."

"as long as the fire inspection is up to date, there shouldn't be a problem. now get out!" to accentuate her point, she threw another crystal glass against the tiled wall.

as a connoisseur of fine foods, yuki found it remarkable to watch her work, preparing enough desserts (that would inevitably be blowtorched) for a dining room of seven hundred. she commanded attention and authority, dishing out instructions to her team in a way that made the foreign secretary's pants grow a little tighter.

he was well and truly smitten.

after the meal was over, and yuki had gotten to see the pure delight on y/n's face as she performed a demonstration of the flambee portion of the dessert, he politely excused himself from the table as miley began to sing.

out of no disrespect for her, of course. she was an incredible performer. there was just someone else that yuki wanted to see more.

the kitchen was empty, the staff having left for a well deserved break when he pushed his way through the swinging doors. y/n was alone, sitting on one of the metal islands. she'd let her hair down, voluminous strands falling around her face as she stared down at her cell phone. she was snacking on a small bowl of table water crackers.

"excuse me, miss?" yuki started, taking off his tie and unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt. "i would like to pay my compliments to the chef."

she looked up at him, smiling as she tucked her phone away into an apron pocket. under the apron, she was wearing jeans and knee high boots with a small wedge heel.

"oh yeah? and how do you reckon you're going to do that?" she slid off the island, leaning against it.

yuki crept closer, arms caging her in. "first with a kiss." his voice was sultry as he said it, resting his forehead against hers. "and then, if she's up for it, in a king sized bed with a bottle of champagne, making her come all night long."

y/n grinned, gently tugging his hair. he groaned, and she took pleasure in how flustered he was getting.

she was flustered too, heat pooling in her core. "oh yeah, she's up for it."

when he kissed her, it was like a dam had broken. the kiss was sloppy and hungry, smearing her clear lip gloss all around her mouth before he bit down on her bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth. they could faintly hear miley's second set through the walls, adding a fitting ambiance as she started to grind against yuki's thigh. he pushed his leg further between hers, encouraging her movements as he felt himself harden, swallowing one of her moans as she desperately humped his slacks.

reluctantly, she broke away, face flushed and chest heaving up and down. her blouse had shifted, allowing yuki to see the devilish purple lace undnerneath.

"this is a health hazard." she breathed. "i can't fuck you in here."

"my room is on the seventh floor." yuki breathed. "but i left the key at the table."

"shit." she groaned, leaning her head back so far that the ends of her hair brushed the top of the stainless steel work station.

yuki absentmindedly wondered if that's what she'd look like on top of him.

"i have an idea." she said with a twinkle in her eye. "room service has a master key. it has to be in here somewhere."

hurriedly, the pair separated, opening drawers and checking wall hooks until she found it, triumphantly holding up the skeleton key. all the rooms were fully booked, but as long as the party kept going all night, they would have more than enough time between the sheets before yuki could slink back into the ballroom and grab his own room key.

giggling, she grabbed his arm and tugged him out of the kitchen's service entrance and up the back staircase. on the second floor, they rushed out of the stairwell, going straight for the first room they saw. y/n knew that this whole floor was rented out to the partygoers, and that they would be undisturbed. she slid the key into the lock, silently screaming in triumph as the door gave way. yuki followed her inside, barely waiting until the door was closed to pounce on her again.

he gripped her ass firmly with both hands, his lips kissing the juncture between her neck and collarbone with such force that she was backed up against the door. one of her legs coiled around his, her hands vaguely remembering to take off her apron. she grabbed the man's face, pressing her lips to his again as he tried to shrug off his expensive tailored jacket. his cock strained against his dress pants, and she could feel it through her jeans as he rutted against her.

"bed. now."

she followed him deeper into the immaculate room, the only sign of its habitation being the suitcase shoved into the corner. the bed was massive, layered with plush white pillows and a down duvet.

she fumbled out of her boots, and then her jeans and blouse, leaving them as a trail from the foyer to the raised portion of floor that the bed was on. yuki was already undressed, stroking his hard cock as he watched her fluff her hair and skip towards the bed.

“that’s quite the lingerie set you’ve got there.” he remarked

she shrugged, crawling onto the bed. “confidence booster. makes me feel powerful.” she rested her hands on his thighs, leaning forward to kiss him softly before tapping the end of his nose with her fingertip. “and we had a league of aussie rules football players through here last month. god, those guys know what they’re doing in bed.”

“I don’t know if I like hearing you talk about other men.” yuki purred, running a hand through her hair. “I want to be the only one who makes you feel good.”

she kissed his neck, guiding his hand to her ass as her own hand went to his hard cock, skillfully stroking up and down as she licked at his pulse point.

“mm, sweet girl.” yuki hummed, hips bucking into her hand. “that’s it, just like that.”

his hand skirted over her bottom, over the dark silk of her panties to where he slipped his fingers between her ass cheeks, gently playing with her small, tight hole.

she gasped at the sensation, her hand faltering around yukis dick.

“oh my god.” she gasped, burying her face between his neck and shoulder.

“yeah baby?” he hummed, turning his head to kiss her hair, letting out his own soft moan at the feeling of her fingers around him. “you like it when I play with your asshole? atta girl, just let me make you feel good.”

she nodded against his neck before tilting her head up to kiss him, hand moving along his member quicker and quicker. she could feel his hips stuttering under her hand. he leaned back with a harsh moan, staring up at the room's mirrored ceiling. reflected back at him, he could see his flushed, muscular body, and a gorgeous woman running her hand all over his cock.

he was in fucking heaven.

"fuck, baby, i'm close. keep fucking stroking me." he breathed, forcing himself to keep watching in the mirror as he finished, spilling all over her fingers, and his own thighs.

she was positively soaked, her panties being the only thing keeping her from dripping everywhere. sitting back on her heels, she licked the remnants of yuki's release from her hands before casting her panties aside, dimly aware that they landed on the carpet with a wet thumping sound.

"baby," she whined. "i need you so bad."

"so do i, angel girl. since i first saw you in that kitchen. my dress pants have been tight all evening." yuki purred, grabbing her hands and pulling her closer before nuzzling into her neck. "couldn't decide if i wanted to bend you over that kitchen island and fuck you so hard that the whole party could hear, or let you ride my cock and use me to get yourself off."

she audibly whimpered, clenching her thighs together. "fuck me, you could have said something. my job is done for the night once dessert is served."

yuki grinned, kissing her collarbone. "you made wielding a blowtorch much sexier than i think it probably should be."

"I see" her voice was low as she kissed him again, gently grinding her soaking wet core against his cock. "did my blowtorch make you hard?"

subtly rolling his eyes, he used one hand to angle his hard member upwards, thrusting into her opening. she moaned out a curse, leaning her head back.

"see the mirror, sweet girl? see how fucking sexy you look?" he growled, leaning back against the pillows. "makes me wanna fucking worship you."

she opened her eyes, staring up at the mirrored ceiling, at the deliciously sinful image of her riding the politician, face flushed and hair sweaty, already wrecked just from the way he played her with his fingers.

scraping her nails along his abs, she started swiveling her hips, moaning at the delicious drag of his inches deep inside of her. for a moment, inside this stolen hotel room, she was able to forget that they were a politician and a lowly pastry chef. they were just people, making each other feel good.

"oh, baby, you feel so fucking good." yuki moaned, gently slapping at the flesh on her thigh. he met her eyes in the mirror, hips bucking up to take her deeper.

her mouth fell open in a moan as she tried to chase that sensation, lifting her body up before dropping it down.

"yuki, please!" she begged. "i need you to fuck me deeper."

he sat up, planting the soles of his feet on the mattress. "hold on tight, angel." he warned, waiting for her to loop her arms around his neck before he gripped her hips tightly and started to thrust up, slamming himself into her.

"yes, yes, fuck!" she screamed, leaning over to kiss him, raking her nails across his shoulders as she moaned into his mouth. "feels so good."

she was perfectly content to sit there and continue to let the foreign secretary thrust into her, filling her in the perfect way as he grabbed the globes of her ass in both hands and continued to drive his hard cock in and out of her.

he noticed her legs start to tremble, and without a word, flipped them both over so that her back hit the goose down duvet. without missing a beat, yuki adjusted his angle, using one hand to hold himself up and the other to grip one of her legs, maneuvering it to change the angle slightly. he continued to thrust, but this time she could clearly see in the mirror where he was sliding in and out of her aching core.

that sight alone was enough to make her clench around his cock, hands gripping the sheets as she came without warning, back arched and eyes screwed shut.

"come on baby, give it to me." yuki encouraged. "come on, come on. cum for me." he fucked her right through it, never slowing down. "i know you've got another one in you baby, and i could spend all fucking night wrapped up inside this sweet pussy."

he slowed for a few thrusts, leaning over her with care and reverence as he brushed some of her sweaty hair out of her face, kissing her forehead, and then her cheeks, and lastly her lips.

"fuck, baby." he whispered. "something about you makes me want to soak these sheets in your come. i don't wanna stop until you're fully satiated."

"then don't stop." she encouraged, grabbing one of his ass cheeks and pulling him closer, feeling his cock go deeper. "give me another one."

"greedy girl." he grinned, kissing her again before thrusting hard and fast.

leaning her head back, she could see his body engulfing hers despite the minor height difference, likely due to muscle mass. with every thrust, she could see the way his ass jiggled with impact, the scratches she was leaving on his back, angry red marks against his pale skin, and each pleasure-filled expression she made as he took her higher and higher towards that peak.

"i want you to look at yourself when you come." he rasped into her ear. "see how fucking amazing you look."

she couldn't form words, simply gripping his shoulders tighter in response and latching her legs around his torso.

"atta girl." he grunted, using one hand to tweak and toy at her hard nipple through the lace of her unlined bra. "you can do it, i've got you. just give me one more, sweetheart. and then just milk my cock until you're full."

he could feel her walls clench around him, and he gently gripped her neck, guiding her face towards the mirror, watching her as she watched herself. "watch yourself come, angel. see how fucking good it feels."

she came with a cry, struggling to keep her eyes open as she gushed around him.

"fuck, babe. that's a big one." yuki groaned, snapping his hips. "take it, baby. take everything i've got." he let out a sharp grunt, hips faltering as he started to spill. she felt him everywhere, his release spreading deeper and deeper, hips smacking against hers.

with the soaked duvet lying on the floor with their clothes, the pair curled up in between the bamboo sheets, resting in a contented silence as yuki pressed gentle kisses to her body, paying extra attention to her perky and neglected nipples, sucking and kissing them through the fabric of her bra.

"i wish you didn't have to go back to japan." it wasn't a line. it was the truth. she really liked the dignitary she was sharing a bed with. he was sweet and kind and all the right kinds of spicy. in a different world, she would have loved to have seen where their relationship went.

"i know." he hummed, detaching himself from her right nipple. "but there's not much i can do about that. i'd love to bring you home with me, if it wouldn't create such a scandal."

combing her fingers through his hair, she was about to say something else when a crash and a scream forced them both to bolt upright.

"what the fuck was that?"

"i don't know." yuki jumped out of bed, reaching for his pants and shirt. "stay here while I go look."

she sat up anyways, back against the ornate headboard as she watched him dress. "what if its dangerous?"

"that's why you're staying here." he slipped his shirt over his shoulders, leaning over to kiss her. "i'm not letting anything happen to you." he turned around to button up his shirt before letting out a curse.

"what's wrong?"

"two buttons came off!"

"check the closet. one of the dignitaries is staying in here, there's bound to be another shirt."

yuki raised his eyebrows "you want me to wear a stranger's shirt!?"

"it's better than going out there without one!"

[ssentimentals]

Number 13 with cheol? Maybe they're spies and reader confesses while drugged 🫠

hi hi! sure, that sounds very fun, thank you for requesting! 💜

prompt: drunken/drugged/sleepy confessions

seungcheol knows this unfocused and glazed over look very well. he curses inwardly, slowly stepping into your space. his eyes scan your body for any physical damage and he sighs in relief, when he finds none. you groan, holding your head like it's about to burst and he kneels in front of you, frowning. 'what kind of professional drinks whatever was given to them,' he reprimands although his tone lacks any bite. being on this mission with you has been one hell of a challenge due to unexpected circumstances, but so far you handled them perfectly well. he should've known something like this was bound to happen. 'how could you not notice?'

'shut up,' you mutter without looking up. 'you try saying 'no' to bunch of rich misogynists who are shoving their drinks at you without looking like a bitch and angering them. good luck.'

that shuts cheol up very quickly. he knows you're one of a kind in this field - it's weirdly nice to see that you're also a human who can make mistakes. he sort of idolized you from afar and thought that this image will shatter when you two finally get a mission together, but the complete opposite happened - meeting you in real life and getting to know you more made him like you even more. 'i think we have around ten minutes before that performance will end,' he says, leaning a bit closer to you. 'did you throw up to flash toxins out?'

you nod. slowly you lift your head, meeting his gaze dead on. you're paler than usual and your pupils are blown disproportionately wide; gaze is still unfocused but not overly so. your eyes trace his features and you suddenly lean on, hiding your face in his neck. 'how do you do this, fuck,' you mutter.

seungcheol catches you when you start sliding down the chair and gathers you in his arms in surprise. your warmth breath tickles and he shudders when you move your head, whispering right into his skin: 'clocked two guards and still look so perfect, so handsome. how is this even fair, hm?'

the only thing that comes out of cheol's mouth on this is: 'huh?'. which is not very intelligent, he's aware, but he's too shocked to work on a proper response. and it seems like you don't really need it, judging by how you snuggle further to his side. clock is ticking but seungcheol is a weak man and instead of getting up, he only hugs you tighter, caressing your naked back. your skin is silk under his fingertips and when you whisper 'i like the way you hold me', he can't help but press a kiss on top of your head. he doesn't know what they gave you, but it doesn't seem very bad - just loosens your tongue, which currently is working in his favor. 'are you sleepy?' he asks quietly. 'or nauseous? if i may i'd suggest throwing up again to make sure that-'

'so caring,' you interrupt, yawning. your body is not burning up and seungcheol sighs in relief - not a poison then. 'so cute. so handsome.'

he chuckles. 'what an honor to hear all of it from you,' he says and quickly rearranges his hold on you. 'i'm going to stand up now, careful.' he easily stands up with you in his arm. 'all good?'

'mhm.' you yawn again and wrap your arms around his neck. 'i like you, seungcheol. and i'm very sleepy.'

seungcheol smiles, leaning his cheek on top of your head. is this bad that he's kind of happy with how everything turned out? 'i hope you remember this when you wake up, because i like you too.' trying to walk without jostling you too much, seungcheol opens the door and passes two knocked down guards, going to the safe place in this house.

you scrunch your nose unhappily. 'i think i'll forget,' you mutter cutely.

seungcheol chuckles. 'it's alright. i will remind you of it tomorrow.' he kisses your head, making you hum sweetly. 'now rest. i'll take care of everything.'

a/n: this is first ever spy!au thing i wrote so i hope it's not very bad :( - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[markrosewater]

Hey Mark, I just wanted to say you've always seemed like a really cool guy. I've played magic for over 4/5ths of my life, since the early 2000s when I was only five years old, I even met most of my long time friends through it. But I think I finally feel alienated enough by it to drop it entirely.

I always enjoyed every aspect of this game, from the deckbuilding, to the flavor, to the color pie and the possibilities it presented. I loved the fantasy of it, of planeswalkers and wizards, dragons and castles.

Universes Beyond really was the end of it, all the way back then. When i heard the announcements I was terrified, I knew where it would lead even then. I loved the world of Magic, and it feels silly to say about a card game but I truly felt immersed in the world when I played, even with the different planes, everything cohered to an internal set of rules that seemed unbreakable.

For a while I continued, our local scene created a variant format that banned Universes Beyond cards so I was able to ignore them, but then came Neon Dynasty. It felt strange to me, like it was breaking what I had come to expect out of the game. Most people disagreed, said it was still Magic enough, but I wondered just how far it would be pushed before Magic lost any identity of its own, anything that separated it from Fortnite or any other crossover soup known entirely for the things it borrows rather than the things it is.

When I saw the first spoilers for Duskmourn, I think that was the straw that broke the camel's back. When I play at the table with my friends, I enjoy the fact that all the cards feel like part of one larger universe. And when I see cards with televisions and smartphones in them, with modern clothing and internet references, I just can't fit them together in my mind. It seems like a cool world, much like a lot of the crossovers are cool worlds, but I play Magic for well... Magic. If I wanted to play Fallout or Warhammer 40k, or watch Insidious or Walking Dead, then I would. But when I play Magic, I want to see magic.

And it's canon, just as canon as Innistrad or Alara. We can't excise it like we can Universes Beyond, and if we can't, then what's even the point of trying to "protect the tone" with those bans? What tone are we protecting, that's already been shattered from within?

More and more it feels like the game just isn't for me, doesn't want the kind of player that feels strongly about cohesion and immersion. And that's fine, it doesn't have to cater to me, and the current approach seems to bring in more people than it drives away. But it still just makes me sad, on a deep personal level, to give up on what has been such a major part of my life.

In all likelihood, I'm an outlier, and you could easily say that Magic getting even broader in what it covers is only a positive thing. Take my critiques only as the lamentations of a single person. But when you can put anything in a piece of media, when there's no unifying idea of what is and isn't possible, then it just starts to feel meaningless.

I'm sorry, I know you'll probably never read this, I mostly just needed to get it off my chest- and you're the closest thing to a human face Magic the Gathering has. Thank you for all the work you've put into it over the years, and I'm sorry that I can't enjoy it anymore.

Thanks for writing. From a big picture, Magic excels at creating variety and does poorly at consistency. The core idea of a trading card game is we make lots and lots of pieces you can play with and then you, the player, customize your game as you see fit. History has shown us, the wider we spread the potential of what Magic can be, the more people find something they enjoy and are attracted to the game.

Think of it this way. Each player has a different sense of what Magic is to them. There's no cutoff point where we make the majority of players happy. In fact, for many players, it's the ever-expanding quality to the game that they enjoy most.

This does mean though that we might make choices that don't connect with what you personally enjoy, and I respect that. If Magic isn't providing what you want out of it, that's okay. My only recommendation is don't get rid of your cards. Many Magic players rotate in and out of the game, and the number one complaint I hear from players who rotate back in is them having gotten rid of everything when they rotated out.

Magic might not be what you need right now, but maybe a few years from now you've changed in ways which makes it something you will enjoy. Or maybe Magic will evolve in a way that speaks to you. The only constant I know is you and Magic will both change. Just leave yourself the possibility of reconnecting.

Thanks for playing all these years, and I hope to see you again.

[thepenultimateword]

Absentminded

“Good morning, love,” Civilian beamed.

Villain slumped groggily on the stair rail, rubbing the leftover sleep from their eyes. “What’s got you so chipper?”

“I don’t know.” Civilian threw themselves around their neck. ��Just woke up extra happy I guess.”

Villain trudged toward the table, but Civilian didn’t loosen their grip, stepping with them until they plopped into a kitchen chair.

“You going to give me any breathing space?” Villain said, even as they gathered Civilian into their lap. They were always a little resistant to affection first thing in the morning. Civilian was pretty sure they got shy. Almost like each day was a restart of their first, like they had to be sure Civilian was talking to them. It was sweet.

They shook their head into their collar. “Mm-mm.”

Villain gave them a gentle squeeze around the waist. “Just how happy are you?”

“Brimming. Overflowing. Oh! I made breakfast!”

They hopped out of Villain’s arms and swept a great plate of chocolate chips pancakes from the counter.

“You’re pancake happy?” Villain said a little surprise in their tone. “You usually only get pancake happy on your birthday or our anniversary.” They stiffened. “It’s not our anniversary is it?”

Civilian smiled, placing a reassuring hand on Villain’s shoulder. “No. It’s sort of weird I suppose. I just woke up early this morning and I was looking at you—“

“Creep.”

“Shut up.” Civilian punched them in the shoulder. “I was looking at you, and I just started thinking how happy I am that I found you. You know from the moment we met…it was like I knew you. Like I’d always known you. I guess that’s how I figured it out.”

“Figured out what, my heart?”

“That we were meant to be together.”

Villain’s smile froze, thawed into a sort of grimace, then froze again wider. A sort of thin, strained thing, like a wash rag wrung out too many times.

Civilian backtracked. “That’s cheesy isn’t it?”

“No! No! It’s wonderful! I just feel guilty! You knew much sooner than I did. I let you chase after me for far too long. I don’t…I don’t always think I deserve you.”

Civilian grinned. “I didn’t mind. You’re just more cautious. I like that about you.”

They kissed Villain’s cheek and plopped down in the seat beside them, dividing pancakes between their plates. Villain’s eyes followed their movements as they slathered the stack with butter and cream and doused it all in syrup.

“How’s work? Any schemes planned for the day?”

Villain cut their stack in section and skewered three pancake pieces on their fork. “Not until evening, but I have to leave in a couple hours to organize it. It’s a museum heist, so I’ll be home a little late.”

Civilian nodded. “Are things smoother for you without Hero around?”

Villain choked on their breakfast. Civilian leaped for the pitcher, messily pouring a glass of water, and shoving it into Villain’s hand, then rubbing their lover’s back as they chugged it down.

“Hero?” Villain croaked once they had a hold of themselves. “Why are you thinking about them all of a sudden?”

Civilian didn’t stop rubbing their back. “I saw on the news they’re putting up a memorial statue in the park this afternoon. It’s been three years since they went missing, right? How well did you know them?”

“Fairly well.”

“Oooh?” Civilian rose their eyebrows.

“Not like that. I don’t know. We just fought. It wasn’t like we actually knew knew each other.”

Civilian nodded idly. That was about what they had expected. It was just their reactions around mentions of Hero were somewhat guarded. They supposed one didn’t have to be close to somebody to be struck by their loss. “What do you think happened?”

“They probably just settled down.”

“You think they’re ok?” It was the first they’d heard that theory, most everyone thought the vigilante was dead or kidnapped or undercover.

Villain nodded. “They weren’t the type to let someone get the jump on them. Besides they were always miserable as a hero.”

Civilian cocked their head.

“They were just always exhausted and angry and breaking down. I don’t think they liked being a hero, even if they were good at it. Anyway…” Villain ate the last bite of pancake and stretched their arms over their head as they rose. “I better get dressed and get going. What are you doing today?”

“Just grocery shopping,” Civilian said. “I’m going to make orange chicken for dinner.”

“Stop spoiling me,” Villain said, kissing them first on the head.

“I guess I just can’t help it. …I love you.”

Villain hesitated, but eventually, they took Civilian’s face in their hands and pressed a long kiss to their lips. “I love you too.”

***

Civilian swung the grocery bags in rhythm with their steps. The music blasting from the speakers in the square had them swaying and skipping like a dance more than a walk. A crowd of people were gathered across the street, some dressed in blue masks and capes.

Right. The unveiling.

Civilian idly crossed the street toward the crowd. They couldn’t stay long—they had ice cream in their bag—but they couldn’t say they were uninterested in this memorial. Hero intrigued them. What sort of person was willing to sacrifice so much for other people? Even after they disappeared, they were still making an impact. There was something sort of amazing and sad about all that.

The music died down and the microphone squealed in the hands of a smartly dressed woman in a grey pencil skirt and puffy, white blouse standing on the steps in front of the covered statue.

A dull pain started behind Civilian’s eyes. Was getting up so early affecting them?

“Welcome, everyone. I appreciate you all coming out this afternoon for Hero’s statue unveiling. Hero was my friend. No, more than that. They were my mentor. And I was with them the night they disappeared. You've probably all read the story. We got a call for help at an old factory, and Hero ran ahead.

“I was only a few feet behind when I saw a flash of light through the windows. When I got inside, Hero was gone. I never saw them again. Sometimes I still expect them to turn a corner or walk onto our old training grounds. To come back into my life.”

The pain spread up into Civilian’s forehead and temples, a throbbing sensation like someone knocking on a door to get in. Or maybe to get out.

Civilian clutched the side of their face. What was going on? A really bad migraine? They probably should just head home for some pain medication and lie down. And yet…they couldn’t seem to move. They picture the scene the woman had described clearly. Almost like each painful throb was focusing the picture clearer in their head. Had they been to the same factory? Maybe they’d seen a picture in the news when Hero first went missing.

The woman stared out across the crowd.

"It left me wondering, what do we do when the person who does the saving needs saved?" She paused. "We step up. We become the heroes. Hero inspired me to be better; they wanted all of us to be better. And today we honor their belief that ‘everyone possesses a little bit of heroism; they just have to be brave enough to use it.’”

Another stab of pain, worse than the others. Almost like their skull was being ripped in two. A scream pushed up their throat, lying threateningly just behind their teeth.

Villain. They should call Villain. They dropped one grocery sack and fumbled for their phone.

“Hero was always secretive about their identity,” the woman continued in the background, “but for the first time, I would like to share with you all the face of a hero. I would like to give them the honor and credit they deserve. Ladies and gentleman…our Hero.”

The sheet dropped.

Civilian’s scream was lost in the ecstatic shouts and applause. They dropped to their knees, legs and heads and bags blocking everything the bright spots flashing across their vision did not. For moment all they could do was tuck their head into their chest against the concrete and wait, trembling fingers still a button click away from calling Villain.

After what seemed like forever, the pain dulled and they were able to stumble upright.

Slowly, they blinked the blur from their eyes, taking in the horror of what they now already knew: the statue wore their face.

***

Villain flicked on the hall lights just after midnight.

Hero sat at the center of the room, kitchen chair dragged right into the entryway.

“Sweetheart?” Villain blinked a few times. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?” They seemed to quickly read the wrongness in their face. “Is this about missing dinner? I’m sorry, I should have called, but—”

“I’m Hero.”

Villain froze. Reddened. Paled. Ever the chameleon.

“Ah, so you did know.” They weren’t sure if that was better or worse. If Villain had fallen in love with them as a civilian maybe Hero could have excused them and saved some of the aching, quivering shards of their broken heart. But knowing that the deception had been intentional, well, now Hero had the freedom to explode.

“How did you…?” Villain swallowed. “Do you remember everything?”

“Not everything, but I remember you. And I remember me. And enough events between us to know this never should have happened.”

Villain took a step forward, and immediately, Hero stood to take a step back. Another step forward. Another step back. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. Until Hero was up against the wall and Villain only an arms length apart.

“We can talk about this,” Villain said, outstretching their hand.

Hero only stared.

“In what world is this getting solved with a talk? Our entire relationship, the entire three years we’ve been together, are a lie.”

“But you’re happy! You said it yourself! You’re brimming with happiness! Overflowing with happiness! With me!”

Hero slammed their fist into the wall behind them.“Happy? You took advantage of me! Manipulated me!”

At that, Villain looked affronted. “I didn’t manipulate anyone! You approached me that night! I tried to send you away; I tried multiple times to avoid you; you didn’t want to. And when I did give in, I never pretended to be anyone other than I am. I even told you what I do, and you were all too accepting, like you’d dealt with it every day.”

“Because I had!”

“Then what was I supposed to do?” Villain cried, throwing their hands in the air.

“You could have told me!”

“That would have defeated the point!”

Hero went rigid. Villain covered their mouth. Their eyes plead for mercy Hero was not capable of giving.

“You did this?”

Villain’s lip trembled. “It was meant to be temporary. A few hours. I didn’t know it was going to last three years! I tried to make it right at first! I tried to trigger memories or to come up with some sort of reversal machine, but I couldn’t figure it out, and meanwhile, you kept coming and coming and you just seemed happier this way! And things got so good, I got scared of ruining it!”

Hero stared them down, waiting for the ramble to sputter out. Their reply was slow and cold.

“You gave me amnesia and then made me love you!”

“I didn’t make you love me.” They took Hero’s chin. “It just happened.”

And that was what hurt the most. Hero couldn’t deny it. No matter the false circumstances or how their returned memories rebelled, the feelings had been real. But veracity did not make any of it alright.”

“Then I guess this is where it ends.” Hero smiled weakly. “Goodbye, Villain.”

They felt past feeling as they edged around their lover ex-lover nemesis’s shocked form, picking up their bag, packed and ready for the last six hours, at the door.

“Hero!” Villain lurched forward, seizing them by the wrist and yanking them around. Their other hand tangled in their hair as the pulled into a desperate kiss, gruff and noxious and pleading.

Hero stomped hard on their foot, ripping away as Villain yowled and fell back. The criminal barely allowed the pain a second thought, scrambling after Hero’s determined stride.

“Hero! Hero, I love you! I love you, I love you, I love—”

“You do not!” Hero shouted. Regrettably some emotion edged in on their fury; a few tears slid down their cheek. “You loved a version of me. A dead one. A made up one. Maybe I made them up. But they are not me.”

They stormed out without another word, leaving Villain crumpled and weeping on the floor.

Master Taglist

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindonessy @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @talesofurbania1 @sweetsigyn

[possessionisamyth]

Not to kick a dead horse, but there is a way to make Pier's death genuinely very loaded and tragic that fandom consensus just seems to continue to miss! I've never seen a take about Piers's death being about PIERS, but all about "ooohh chris lost a good one" and how the two are not able to fuck anymore. But I am going to free you from these shackles while I zero in on Chris' comment of

"I wanted him to replace me."

Surely Piers was being trained to take Chris' job ideally after a decent retirement party, but neither of them get that luxury because Edonia happens, and Chris is gone. The beloved captain has vanished, and the person who's supposed to take his job is right there, so they give it to him. It's Piers responsibility to not only be a face of what the BSAA represents, but also the heavy shackles of expectations are slapped onto him.

Everyone wants Chris, which means Piers can't be himself nor figure out how to run the same jobs his way. No, it has to be Chris' way. There's no time for anyone to adjust and shift gears either with the C-Virus outbreaks, the terrorist attacks from Ada*(Carla), and the search party he shambled together to locate the missing Redfield. So he tries his damnedest to fill Chris' shoes and suddenly realizes just how out of his depth he is. There were so many reasons people called Chris for certain tasks, even tasks Piers hadn't known about and definitely hadn't been trained on, that Piers never saw. There's no mentor to dial. No reference other than fellow soldiers saying things like, "We don't know how, he just got it done," which is the least helpful thing in the world. Hell, there's barely any notes to go through when he searches Chris' office for a semblance of a hint as to how he should do this job.

Maybe it turns out Chris was doing his best to gently ease that heavy mantle into Piers' hands. It's why his scheduled retirement seemed so far away at the time. Perhaps, after one comment too many where he'd been accidentally addressed by the name of his captain for the 50th time, Piers breaks. He can't do this. He's not ready for this. He needs the one person who did all this back by any means necessary, so he drops all the work and joins the search party. He verbally harasses an amnesiac Chris into coming back because maybe it isn't that bad. Maybe Chris just needs a reminder of what he's been doing everyday for literal years and things would be back to normal again.

But it's not. It's messier. It's uglier. This isn't the Chris he worked so hard to fight alongside. There are glimpses of him in there, but most of the time in China, Piers feels like he's working with a stranger. People die, and Chris keeps pushing forward no matter how much he's shouted at, and Piers feels like this is all his fault. The deaths are his fault because he couldn't buckle down and do what Chris originally wanted him to do. Take Chris' place. Replace him. Be better than him.

So when they go to that underwater facility, and their backs are against the wall, there's the looming sense of failure and a terrifying amount of pressure. If they get out of this alive, who knows when Chris would be back in shape to work again if that ever happens. Piers would have to be responsible. He was already responsible for the squad he gathered to take up this job, and they were skewed into pieces around downtown Lanshiang. Take Chris' place. Replace him. Be better than him, and Piers failed on all accounts. He couldn't get Chris back the way he was supposed to be. His squad was dead. The responsibility he'd have to take up if they made it out alive would be nigh unbearable, and then he gets infected.

He gets infected and suddenly the decision is so easy. To let go. To hope for the best. To be the one left behind when he was supposed to be the one moving towards the future. Another glimpse of the Chris that Piers knew is seen, a more confident glimpse wherein Chris does everything he can to try and save him. And Piers smiles when Chris fails. When he saves Chris. When he seems to finally do one thing right after things never seemed to stop falling apart.

It's the last thing Chris sees. That smile and the ever encroaching weight of immeasurable responsibility that'll grasp him tight as soon as he breaks the surface. The weight Piers couldn't take from him, and maybe never wanted in the first place.

[sunlitlemonade]

From The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows:

the kick drop n. the moment you wake up from an immersive dream and have to abruptly recalibrate to the real world—unquitting your job, falling right back out of love, reburying your lost loved ones. In American football, the drop kick is when a player drops the ball and kicks it as it bounces off the ground, used as a method of restarting play.

—

16th August. 8:45 pm. 

“There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Cass stands beside him, silent and patient. 

“Happy birthday, kid,” he says and chokes on it, the unerasable love, the still-festering guilt. He closes his eyes for a second. 

Haltingly, which is uncharacteristic, Cass speaks to fill the heavy air. “No one talks about him. All I know is… he was the second Robin. And that the Joker ki—”

He cuts her off, the words an unnecessary reminder. The wound is ever-present and dear and he pokes at it like he can’t bear for it to heal. On this day though, every year since his passing, he shoves his hand inside and parses his fingers out with blood and the remains of his mangled heart trailing behind. 

“He would have been eighteen today. He loved cars and girls and getting into fights…. Neapolitan ice-cream and the colour green,” he pauses, gathering meagre strength. “And most of all he loved the thrill of being Robin.”

Robin gives me magic! 

—

16th August. 9 pm. 

Alfred sets dinner. Cass insists on helping. Alfred refuses. Cass doesn’t listen. 

He sits and watches. 

Finally they settle down and eat. He barely manages to stomach it. 

This is a spiral he knows well, he has memorised every curve. He knows exactly how deep he has managed to reach. 

He knows he can go far lower.

—

16th August. 9:25 pm.

The bedroom’s air is stale. He’s hardly spent much time here in the past week. He sees how quickly things grow old, how easily the air shrinks in a space closed-off and forgotten. 

His feet take him to his [dead] son’s room. [Dead. He’s dead. He died three years ago. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s—]

He doesn’t open the door. He goes back to his room, shuts the door behind him. 

—

He wakes up to a pleasantly sunny day. He stretches luxuriously and hears footsteps bound up the stairs. It’s Tim. 

He pounds at the door and tells him to “Rise and shine!”. Before Bruce can answer, the door is thrown wide open and Ace bounds in, jumping on the bed like he owns it. First, he slobbers all over Bruce’s face with his tongue. Then, he sits back and looks at him expectantly. 

Absent-mindedly scratching him behind his ears, he raises a brow at Tim, who’s leaning against the threshold. “Good morning. You’re supposed to be at school.”

“And you were supposed to drop me off before your meeting today.”

…. He did promise that, didn’t he? He sighs and shoots him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry—”

Tim waves it off with a flippant gesture. “Oh, it’s fine. We had a presentation today, I’m glad I could skip. I had nothing ready.”

“Tim.” 

“What? I was busy, alright? Anyways, I’m grievously sick and Mrs. Wilkins feels bad for me so I have an extension.”

“Maybe you should use that time to complete your work instead of terrorising me.”

“I’m holding you accountable. You were the one supposed to be dropping me off!”

“Why didn’t you ask Jason?”

“He said he had to pick up Rena on his way to college and if he took a detour to drop me off he would be late.”

“That’s fair.”

“Want to know why I had to resort to even asking him? Take a wild guess.”

He sighs again. “Because I didn’t drop you off. I’m sorry, it was a really hectic day yesterday. We could get some donuts together later?”

“Hmm. Ace, come on, boy. Come here.”

“Where are you both going?”

“For a morning walk.”

“It’s eleven. It’s sunny.” 

“A midday walk then,” Tim replies, undeterred. “Besides, some sunshine once in a while might do you good.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

Tim’s face scrunches up with barely concealed offence. “Hey! We don’t get any sunlight here as it is and I have time to kill today—”

“Untrue. You have pending work—”

His volume picks up to support the thin veil of ignorance and procrastination. “SO! I will be walking Ace today. Right now. Your meeting is in twenty minutes.”

“Fuck.” He could dump it on Lucius. He hears Ace’s excited barks as Tim takes him down the stairs. He has already failed at being an adult today. 

He fumbles into the meeting nearly an hour late and throws an airheaded smile to the room. It’s long, it’s boring, he signed up for it.  

By the time he gets back home it’s late in the evening. Talia is back too after a day of browsing gowns to dazzle every guest at Dick’s upcoming wedding. She presses her smile against the corner of his mouth and Bruce chases after it like he doesn’t get to kiss her everyday. 

“Found a dress?”

“I’m getting it custom-made.”

Of course she was. Thorny as her relationship with Dick was, Talia had taken to the preparations like a particularly invested fairy godmother pulling ideas, locations, caterers and gods knew what else from all around the world. So far, they had settled on New York (because Dick insisted), though they didn’t have the venue decided just yet, and a baker known for crafting beautiful cakes. 

They still had months to go but Talia wasn’t one to budge. She thought Bruce and Tim needed something better to wear for the reception whereas wholeheartedly approved of whatever Jason had decided upon. He had told her it was favouritism. She had only smiled and said Jason had good taste. 

He pulls her into a proper hug, sighing against her neck. Her nails scratch against his scalp slightly when her fingers sift through his hair. He presses her closer wanting to melt into one, they fit so perfectly. The rose brooch pin holding her dress together at her shoulder digs into his chest though and he pulls back. Sometimes being too close hurts. 

She kisses him once more before calling out to Cass, who was walking past making a mock gagging gesture, and steering her towards the staircase. 

Alfred passes by behind him and Bruce turns around to see him opening the doors for Jason. He spots the red convertible that's his son’s favourite parked near the fountain. 

Windswept curls and flushed cheeks, bright eyes and an even brighter smile. Bruce’s heart squeezes with affection so dangerously hard that he risks his ribs folding in on themselves. 

“Hey, old man.”

His smile is too large and loopy, he knows it. He can’t help it. “Jay.”

Hands shoved in his green jacket's pocket, Jason gets closer and his smile blooms into a grin to match Bruce’s own. “What’s got you smiling?”

“Nothing.”

A raised brow. He was so much like Bruce but only the best parts. Bruce couldn’t be more thankful. 

“Seriously, it’s nothing,” Bruce insists to avoid being called a sap. “How was college today?”

He started only a month back and had been loving it so far. Bruce still asked whenever he could because he couldn’t help but fret. 

Jason rolls his eyes but it’s half-hearted. “Good,” he says, then adds, “I went out with Rena after class.”

“Oh? Where?”

“Ah, well, we were only hanging out, got some ice-cream.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Dad.”

His heart skips a giddy beat. Dad. 

“What? I’m happy for you.” It's a feeble act of innocence and Jason is obviously unimpressed by it. 

“She’s just a friend.”

“Yet you mention her without me having to prompt you.”

And oh, the grumpy pout on his face at that. His spitfire of a son could be the sweetest. 

“I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

A sardonic smile. “Sure. That’s helpful. Thanks.” 

“Listen, I don’t know how I got here either.”

“Talia pitied you.” 

Bruce ruffles his bedhead. “Brat.”

“You know it’s true.”

Bruce sighs. It seems like parents do a lot of sighing. “It is.” 

“Now that this is settled,” Alfred cuts in, “could you both make your way to the living room of the West Wing’s first floor? Master Timothy says it is movie night. Food will be served there.” 

Alfred hated having them eat anywhere that wasn’t the dining table. Tim must have practised puppy dog eyes. 

They reach the room and Jason immediately pushes Tim off the couch. Draping his lanky frame over the cushions, he grins down at his brother. Tim scowls at him. Jason nonchalantly toes his shoes off and lets them drop over the armrest’s side. Tim opens his mouth, undoubtedly about to start a fight when Bruce cuts in. 

“Tim.”

His son whips his face to him, an accusatory finger pointed at his older, unrepentant brother. Bruce smoothly makes his way to the couch, lifts Jason’s legs, plops down to slouch into the soft material and lets his legs fall over his lap. 

Tim’s jaw drops open. “Did you see—”

“Some trusted sources have informed me that you haven’t completed your work yet.”

“I have! Almost. I just need to cite my sources and shit—”

“Language.”

“It’s almost done. Did you not just see what he did?”

���I did and I think you deserve it after last week’s prank.”

“.... In my defence, that was funny. To me,” comes the petulant reply. 

“So was this. To me,” Bruce throws back, just as unapologetic. 

Jason’s shit-eating grin only widens as Tim accepts defeat and curls up at Bruce’s feet, letting his head rest against his thigh distractedly. He immediately recoils and glares at Jason. 

“You have smelly feet.”

Jason’s response is stretching his leg a bit further to bring his toes closer to Tim’s face. The younger boy gets up in annoyance and throws himself on the beanbag near the couch. “Keep…. those things away from me. Ugh.” 

Talia arrives with Cass and Jason instantly retracts his legs from his lap and straightens up to make space for them. Talia sits beside him while Cass occupies the other beanbag. 

This close, Bruce can see the way his eyes almost crinkle shut when he dimples at Talia. They talk in soft tones, discussing the colour of tablecloths and balloons and “oh, there has to be blue”. 

The movie starts and they quieten. Chatter picks up again because “that’s absolute nonsense!” and “shut up, bro, it’s not that deep”. Jason says something crass in return and Talia lets out a startled, full-bellied laugh before she swats his head and tells him to behave. 

He gets to have this. 

Time gets blurry at the edges like a long-forgotten song. At some undetermined time the movie is paused so everyone can carry plates full of food to the room and drag Alfred to watch the movie with them. Some undetermined time later Cass falls asleep and Tim gets up to fetch one of the blankets thrown over a chair pushed into the corner. He doesn’t take his eyes off the movie for a second, it’s a talent. Bruce motions for him to bring another along with him, noticing Jason's half-lidded eyes. 

Sure enough, his blinks get slower and slower. He snuggles into his side and even as he’s a little taller, if thinner, he makes it work somehow. Bruce rests an arm around him and watches his eyes droop shut. Summer has made his freckles reappear.  

Talia smiles when she catches his eyes over their son’s head. She covers him in the blanket Tim had gotten for them and refocuses on the movie. 

Jason’s warm breath ghosts over his clavicle, his curls brushing against his neck. He smells like the citrus shampoo Dick had recommended to them all. Bruce rubs his back soothingly, feeling his lips curve up with something bubbly in his chest.

The movie ends. Everyone on the screen is tearful but happy. 

Tim is sleepy too and Talia gently rouses Cass to take them both to their bedrooms. 

“Hey, Jay,” he whispers against his temple. “Hey, wake up.”

Jason doesn’t move.

“Jay? Wake up, buddy. Movie’s over.”

Jason doesn’t wake up.

There’s blood on his temple. Bruce pulls back. 

He wasn’t mistaken. There is actually blood sliding down to the knob of his jaw. 

He cups his face and shakes him. 

“Jay? Jason! Jason?” another hard shake. “Jason, please.” 

He stretches the soft skin under his eye to check his eyes, not knowing what to do. It’s not the perfect blue of a June sky. It’s glassy. 

He stands up to pick him up and notices, for the first time, that it’s not a blanket. It’s a cape, it’s a shroud. 

—

17th August. 4:17 am. 

Bruce palms are clammy. He picks his head up from the messy desk. The computer screen has gone blank. His bed remains undisturbed. 

There’s not even the ticking of a clock to keep him company, just the subtle white noise of the air conditioning unit. Heartbeat in his ears, breathe out of his lungs, he rises shakily. 

In the bathroom, he picks up the citrusy shampoo and puts it in the dustbin. He smashes his fist against the shower’s glass cubicle and kneels down with a bloody hand. 

[the entire thing is inspired by batman #790 (1937) also note that this is bruce's version of a perfect world, not mine. dick has commitment issues in my head & brutalia is best left at something melancholic & haunting. that's about it? happy birthday, jason! wish i had something about you but instead you ended up being a ghost for your dad here.... maybe i'll have something better cooked up next year? <3]

[eatingfireflies]

2.2 is coming and if I don't write this now, how can I get jossed later?

This is the moment when I started to wonder if their 2.0 conversation was a role play.

Like, we know this issue is a sore point for Ratio. The fact that this guy he called a loud peacock in 2.0 made a joke about his failure to get into the Genius Society and all he said was 'I was being sarcastic'?? Babe, is something wrong? You barely touched your sharp and witty comeback.

(Btw I checked both Cn and Jp, he says 'It was just a joke.')

And I don't want to bring up the voice acting because the way voices sound is subjective and what I hear might not be what you hear, but the Double Indemnity scenes with Ratio are probably the most relaxed we ever see Aventurine ever. (I'm talking about the Cn version, but I played in Jp audio and I could hear it there too.) He's playful and his voice is higher pitched, so different from what we've seen of him so far.

It sounds like Ratio and Aventurine have known each other longer than they want us to believe in their 2.0 convo.

I mean, the implication here is Ratio did some research on Aventurine's background recently and that's how he found out about Aventurine's past. So we make the assumption that they haven't been working together for long.

Look, they even did a Penacony remix of their Final Victor conversation

But honestly, you'd think Ratio would have figured out if he trusted Aventurine or not at this point, considering he came back for more after Final Victor (lmao??)

Also, we know Aventurine had been planning for Penacony since his call to Topaz, where he asked for her help. It's hard to believe that he went through all the trouble of asking two different Stonehearts to lend him their cornerstones and then went to Penacony and the Dreamscape with Ratio, whom he barely knows. That's too much gambling, Aventurine!

We know the Family won't let anyone from the IPC to enter the Dreamscape and Aventurine only gets a pass because of the Watchmaker's invite

But Himeko is wrong here: Aventurine didn't go inside the Dreamscape alone and he does have someone backing him up. It just happened that almost no one else saw Ratio in Penacony and the one scene where we did see him talking to Aventurine was 2.0, where he got angry and left Aventurine babbling to himself.

But now that we're here, what did Ratio do in Penacony aside from bicker and betray?

His initial job is to gather intel, afaik. Aventurine tells him to go look into things in 2.0 before he left. And he does give Aventurine updates in 2.1 (Aventurine finds out about Firefly from Ratio) so good for you, professor!

Ratio is Aventurine's connection to his colleagues outside. Once Aventurine's plans enter the Dead phase, Ratio is the only one left to tell Topaz and Jade if the plan had been a success or not. (Aventurine also makes a joke about the Genius from the Council of the Mundanites offering to be his undertaker. In the Jp version, he says 'So the Genius from the Council of the Mundanites wants to claim my corpse? What an honour.' So there's also that... Uh. Idk how dead dead Aventurine really is, but at least we know someone's looking after his body while he's gone lmao??)

But also he's Aventurine's bait to Sunday, the (fake) weak link in Aventurine's plans that Sunday thought he could exploit.

And the 3rd one is a bit complicated, because it is a gamble. Remember Aventurine's E1? Prisoner's Dilemma? Yeah, it's kinda like that. I talked about it before, but let's copy paste it here for easier reading (and because this post totally needs to be a wall of text)

Let's zoom out a bit again and remember that Aventurine was sent to Penacony because Diamond thinks this whole affair could still have a peaceful resolution. Meaning: Aventurine is the kind option. The IPC could have sent Opal instead, but it sounds like that means there would be a body count.

And I think that's why Ratio is here and why he agreed to cooperate. Because if Aventurine's plan works out, only Aventurine's life will ever be in real danger. (And we know from Ratio's note that he also took steps to increase the chances of Aventurine coming back.)

Ratio being there is important to the plan because

Him being from the Intelligentsia Guild removes some of the heat from the Family. If Ratio is coming in as a plus one, the IPC (in this case, I'm assuming it's Aventurine because he's the guy in charge of the operation) chose the best person for the job. It makes the Family happier knowing there are not two IPC envoys walking around the Dreamscape and Aventurine has a buddy who can move around more freely than another IPC employee could

But because Ratio is an outsider, he's also the weak link in Aventurine's plans. Another IPC employee will probably not betray Aventurine, but the Guild has no particular horse in this race. We were also led to believe from their 2.0 conversation that Ratio doesn't like Aventurine very much. This is what I meant when I said Ratio is a bait: Aventurine was pretty much dangling him in front of Sunday, making Sunday think he could use Ratio to ruin Aventurine's plans. The important thing of course is the trust the two of them have for each other (yay, Prisoner's Dilemma). Ratio could ruin Aventurine's plan if he wants to (very bad for all involved because I'm guessing Opal is the next step) and Aventurine could fail (not as bad for everyone involved after 2.1 because the IPC has already won regardless. There's still a Phase 2 in Aventurine's plan and Ratio seems to want him back after that, so I guess he'd consider it a failure if Aventurine doesn't return?), but trusting each other means they win.

Tl;dr Ratio's presence in Penacony is a bit of a gamble on Aventurine's part but it worked well for him so far. Ratio is here to make sure everyone stays alive. (And maybe the Phase Flame? I honestly don't know if the Annihilation Gang will ever come back again, but for now I'm going with the obvious and assuming Ratio is here because he thinks Aventurine's plan will work and work with the least amount of pain for everyone.)

Thank you for getting this far. Why do we think they deserve Oscars?

Aside from the movie references (we'll get to that), we have 3 different instances where Aventurine mentions acting / the 'script'.

The most direct is the conversation with future!Aventurine in the garden maze: future!Aventurine praises Ratio's acting while Aventurine says 'Or he might not be acting at all' (the inability of these two to admit they are friends, but more importantly they don't think the other person thinks highly of them, is2g).

The next one is hidden in the mission description

And the other one got lost in translation. This was translated to 'You catch on quickly' in En. In Jp he says something like 'You have a good sense for drama, professor' (Sorry Idk what this is in the og Cn)

Finally, Double Indemnity. I haven't seen the movie, but it seems to be about an insurance salesman who gets seduced by a hot wife femme fatale into helping her get rid of her husband so she could claim his insurance. Double Indemnity refers to this clause where the insurance gets doubled if the person suddenly dies of an accident.

I've thought about this so hard, let me tell you. What could this possibly have to do with Aventurine and the mission? (For example, 'Hot wife Sunday seduces Ratio the insurance salesman into helping him get rid of Aventurine' etc.) And I honestly still don't know but one detail does help my theory so I'm pulling it out:

The relationship between the insurance salesman and the hot wife femme fatale was known only to the two of them. To the insurance claims adjuster, who was investigating the case and trying to prove the husband's death wasn't an accident, those two are unrelated people who might have seen each other once or twice. The claims adjuster suspected the wife, but had no idea of the insurance salesman's involvement. The truth is, they actually knew each other a full year before the plan was set in motion. Hey, doesn't it actually fit nicely now?

(Spellbound otoh, I still don't know. I have a Sunday and Gallagher reading of it, but Hvy keeps telling me no and making it gay instead so Idk.)

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Cracking the Snowglobe

As the dark closes in and the cold weighs heavy on us on all, it’s important to remember that there is light and warmth to be had, if only we seek it out, and share it with others. Stories round the fire, good food shared with those we love, songs of hope sung in defiance of the bleak, all these things give the soul the tender it needs to burn on through the winter until the days begin to grow long again. 

Setup:  Decades after retiring from a busy life of adventuring, the local wizard Hypatia has fallen into a depressed bout of isolation, raising a barrier of magical force around her manor in the hopes of keeping out distractions while she works on yet another project she hasn’t the energy to complete.   Her old friend Moroz the outrider is having none of it, tired of being brushed off every when he visits and concerned about Hypatia’s wellbeing, he’s journeyed around gathering presents from all their old friends and allies as a reminder of the good times they spent together, and a symbol that people still care about her. His grand display of affection has been somewhat delayed when a gang of hobgoblins ambushed him on the road, stealing the majority of the gifts and leaving him for dead. 

When the party stumble across the scene of the ambush and follow the scatteres of red snow (and Toboggan, the distressed reindeer), they find Moroz crawling his way out of a ditch, alive, pissed off, and in need of some holiday helpers.

 Background: It has been some score of years since the wizard Hypatia walked the roads of the realm with her friends, using her magic and more often her wits to mend what’d gone astray.  She settled, as she had always wanted, into the life of a country wizard, persuing her own studies in a manor just far enough from town that neither she or the locals would bother one another unless the cause was worthwhile. While every shy accademic is due their alone time, decades and distance have not been good for Hypatia. More and more she has sunk into the lony existance she has made for herself, losing the strength to keep up correspondance with old allies, to visit the market for supplies, to even leave the little island she calls home.  She says she is working, but her work suffers too, the grand tretisies and formulations she hoped to write stagnate along with her mind, and frustration at being unable to focus on one thing she was good at has inspired her to cut herself off further, raising a globe of magic around her home and denying all visitors.

Moroz knows what it means to be alone.  The dwarven outrider has spent most of his life carrying messages between settlements and outposts for weeks at a time. He also knows how dangerous that loneliness can be, and that a life without other people in it is a life without hope, and the winter is not kind to those without hope.  The last time he saw Hypatia, when she came to turn him away from her door and raise her barrier, Moroz saw a look in her eyes that reminded him of travellers he’d found stranded in the snow, the look of slowly forgetting your reasons to live. He knows he must remind her, or he won’t see her again come the thaw. 

Adventure Hooks: 

The party could encounter Moroz on any wintry road (A mournfully bellowing Reindeer is one hell of a hook), but If you wanted to run this adventure as a oneshot, consider having the heroes be part of a search party specifically sent out to look for him after a snowstorm delays the local mail delivery.  

The hobs have taken their loot and fallen back to a deserted fortress half buried in snow. While most of what they’ve stolen are keepsakes destined to be sold off or tossed into the fire if the party doesn’t intervene, a few of the more interesting presents have some wizz-bang magical powers. Hopefully Hypatia doesn’t mind some of her gifts being used as powerups to help the heroes survive the dungeon.  

After they’ve recovered the majority of the gifts, Moroz and the party still have to break into the wizard’s warded fortress. The globe of force is highly impressive, but careful perception could reveal a few careful weaknesses.   There’s a boathouse left abandoned on the isle that happens to contain a forgotten tunnel leading into the manor proper (which just so happens to have a local river monster hibernating inside of it).    An eagle eyed scout might likewise notice that the dusting of snow on top of the globe isn’t uniform, and that there’s a thin spot riiiight above the manor’s chimney in order to let out the smoke. 

Once inside the party have other hurdles to face: the phantom servants that manage the grounds are also programmed to repel intruders… but they don’t seem to notice the sinister, shadowy entities that now lurk in the Manor’s unlit halls.  They’ll find Hypatia in a sorry state, having spent several days staring into the yawning mouth of a dark portal she doesn’t quite remember calling up.  After spending so long cut off, so long failing to achieve anything with the work that gave her purpose, despair overtook the wizard’s heart and the shadowfell called to her… she was not that long from answering it when the party intervened. They chose to care, and they ended up saving her life, and the life of her friend besides.  

After their tearful reunion Moroz decides to stay to help take care of his old friend, but extends an invitation to the party: The winter holidays are coming up and it is better to spend it with friends, perhaps they could help him decorate the manor, cook a couple meals, maybe head into town for supplies and get caught up in a snowball fight.  When the Festivities are done, Hypatia will extend the invitation even further: being alone is evidently bad for her, and she has so much space in her home it’d be a shame not to give the party a place to stay every time they stop in.  The party will have a new home base and a new reason to go out adventuring: what with Moroz retiring for the time being and needing someone capable to take over his role as outrider.  

Art 1

Art 2

[mouseclan-clangen]

Prologue - Moon 0 - Leaf-Bare

Hi guys, this is by far the longest writing of the series, idk why i started it with BLOCKS of text but here ya go, eat up kids.

Crack, huff, huff, huff, snap, rustle.

A streak of white bounds through the gnarled forest. Her paws snap twigs. Her breaths are heavy. She catches the scent of wolves again and twitches her whiskers. She makes a sharp turn to the left, slamming through thorned bushes. She has to run far enough that they won't be able to follow. She has to.

Huff, huff, huff, rustle.

Her warm breath clouds the frosted air. In her mouth she holds two kits by their scruff. She stops running and starts to pay attention to where she steps, trying not to leave a trail.

A howl sounds out behind her. It echoes off the mountains and into the dark night. Its far. . . far enough.

Her silver eyes glint in the dark. There! That will work! She places the two kits into the hallow of a large aspen tree. It's dark markings staring down at her, in the shape of many eyes. This will have to do. The white cat knows she doesn't have much time, but also knows the kits will freeze without a mother. She rips off some branches of a nearby berry bush and places them in the hallow. That should keep them warm, and fed, at least until I come back.

"Galekit, Charkit, you will have to take care of each other for now," Her voice was raspy, partially from the running, and partially from age.

"Silverchill…?" Galekit looks up at the elder cat.

"Now listen to me close," Silverchill said, still gathering branches.

"You will have to be dead quiet until the howling stops, you will have to keep each other warm, and you should not leave this spot until I return." Charkit nodded, too young to fully understand what was going on.

"You can eat these," Silverchill nodded at the purple berries.

"And…" Silverchill paused, considering her words.

"If I'm not back in three nights, you will have to learn how to survive on your own."

"No! No I can't!" Galekit's eyes started watering. Charkit whimpered. Silverchill curled up to the kits to comfort them.

"Shhh, I'll be back, you won't have to. Its a just-in-case, you remember talking about just-in-case?" The kits nodded.

"Now remember this just-in-case too…" Silverchill started humming an old tune. She would have to change the words a little, but it would work.

"There is a thunderpath to your north, and a creek to your south, and you can learn a lot from nature, even from a mouse," She sang these words, knowing that kits always remember a song better than anything else.

Silverchill got up from her snuggle spot, her time was up. She knew she had to go back and help the clan, or whatever was left of the clan.

"Goodbye my mouses, I'll see you in a few nights." Silverchill walked off calmly until the edge of the clearing, and looked back one last time. I hope these kits make it. What would have happened if I wasn't watching them in the nursery? She knew there was no time for pondering, or wasn'ts. As soon as she knew the kits couldn't see she started running, and she didn't slow down for anything.

Charkit stared up into the patches night sky in the aspen tree's canopy. Galekit cuddled against her trying not to start crying again. They looked at each other, they were alone, but they were alone together.

Silverchill never returned. In the coming days the kits learned from the mice in the area and started to burrow under the big aspen tree. They treated the project like fort building, and though it was hard work for kits they still played in the snow and collected fun-shaped twigs. Since this was their new home they decided to give themselves a name, Mouseclan.

All cuddled together at the end of a long day Galekit looked over to the quiet Charkit, "We did good Mouseclan." Charkit looked up to him in admiration and nodded.

"Can you tell me another story Galekit?" She whispered.

"Yeah! So one time there was this big bear…." Galekit's voice faded into the wind.

End of moon 0, now onto the events as they happen in clangen >:)) PS: Here is Silverchill's sprite.

You're at the start! | Burrow Further

[jennilah]

a very dumb deep dive

gather round, i saw a few people say they want to crawl into the head of someone who had trouble telling Hoffman and Strahm apart upon first viewing. I offer mine for the picking because i think ive identified, at least in MY personal experience, the various elements that came together that formed the ultimate confusion

if this is not relatable nor informative, i hope it is at least a little silly. this is all in good fun and obviously the difference between them is clear as day to me now

this will be longer than it should be.

PRECURSOR POINT NUMBER ONE...

I do not remember character names. Not until they are recurring, or I've rewatched a film a few times. Sometimes it will take me an entire 12-21 episode season length for me to know characters by name in a show. I've seen some Saw films more than 6 times now and I still don't know everyone in the traps 🤷‍♀️

PRECURSOR POINT NUMBER TWO..

at the time of watching Saw IV for the first time, the madness has not yet set in for Hoffman and Strahm for me. In fact, I didn't like either of them. I wasn't looking at them with my deranged eyes yet.

Without my crazy brain activated, sometimes I'll get face blindness between people who have similar enough hair and stuff. I'll use clothes as an identifier if I can

Meaning, I didn't notice anything like face details, mannerisms, body shapes- to me, it was one dark haired white guy in a suit and another dark haired white guy in a suit who both worked in law enforcement.

uh oh

PRECURSOR POINT NUMBER THREE..

in a very elaborate plot like this with many interwoven stories being told, especially with police procedure, has a lot of details that get lost on me upon first watch because I simply easily misunderstand what is happening. I zone out on stuff like legal talk because I don't know that world at all, and the more general plot information to absorb, the more I forget.

"But [character] SAYS..!" oh, I'm aware! If you pay attention and can remember character names, everything is pretty clear in this movie!

so between all three points, you see where I'm starting to go with this.

THAT BRINGS US TO..

Saw IV. let me describe to you what I believe my thought process was to the best of my memory.

This guy shows up. as far as I knew, this was the first time I've met this character. I forgot he was in Saw III because he was only in it for a second and I definitely don't remember him among the sea of other characters.

ok. sure. new detective because the others are dead. got it 👌

next time we see him is a few minutes later, now in this lighting. I don't have his features memorized yet. I'm pretty sure I put it together that it was the same guy as before, and I see he's in a new outfit.

keep in mind he is not at all referred to with a NAME yet, until Perez shows up and introduces all three of them at the same time

here comes "Strahm," as he was quickly introduced in practically the same breath, from the FBI. and he looks like this.

I mentally go "ok FBI guy in the suit" because my occasional bout of face blindness is activating rn. The problems are on the horizon for me

I survived that scene, but the scene right after? I'm doomed.

Major Confusion #1:

this treacherous interrogation footage, ft Hoffman's ass and slutty, slutty suspenders (but I did NOT give him even a second glance here yet. genuinely.)

I'm 100% sure I just didn't know who I was looking at in this footage at all just because of the outfit change

and then the boys are back in town. and they're BOTH WEARING THIS...

This was mean. this was fucked. I was doomed. My brain is already churning trying to keep up with what the footage was, now there's two dark haired white men in dark suits. Who was who again? I think the guy who just turned off the TV was the new detective. The guy who was talking to the Swat guy before. Yeah....

Major Confusion #2:

Next time we see them, Strahm and Perez are watching the interrogation footage. They quickly start talking Jigsaw stuff and my mind is already working overtime figuring out what information is and isn't important to hold on to.

Hoffman says hello for like 1 minute and then fucks off.

My brain is going "ok.. that footage was an old interrogation... mhm..."

this is the information my brain has decided to retain from that scene for later.

Major Confusion #3

this dark haired white guy in a suit got kidnapped idfk. the shots are all very short and he's enshrouded in shadow or SUPER close-up, and I don't know to recognize him by his lips yet. clearly Im more focused on his hair color and suit, so this could be fuckin anyone

Perez said something about officers being in danger earlier, I think I thought maybe it was irony and the cocky FBI guy was the one who got kidnapped instead? i dont know.

then after the first test of Rigg's game, you see Perez and Strahm again for a SECOND. I def didn't pay them much attention. My mind is elsewhere- the insanity of the previous scene

Major Confusion #4:

then FINALLY... we see Hoffman again in the slut chair

and what have we learned about me so far?

let me sum up my logic for you

Now, if only I was certain on their names..

I'm not going to go over every single scene, but I guarantee you, the confusion was fully set in by this point. That detective from the beginning either really just went home, or he was working with Perez. Or maybe it's the FBI guy and someone else is in the chair? No idea.

My brain retained that one slightly misguided bit of information from the interrogation footage and thought This Guy, Whoever This Guy Is, was interrogating Jill a second time. (Wrong.)

there was no memory of the guy's big ass in that footage or anything. that was also way the fuck in the intro and there was a LOT more that happened between then and now in the movie to remember now. and people really don't say each other's names that often.

Yeah there's also that flashback footage showing The Guy In the Chair and Rigg back in the day, but I was too far gone. That was simply the story of how That Guy and Art Blanc knew each other.

and boy does Chair Guy not do much for the rest of the movie, so there was not much more info about his identity that I could try to work out. Maybe he was just some new random guy meant to die in someone else's game because he is kind of a dirty cop?

Pretty sure I was resigned to the fact that I was watching completely utterly confused by the third act.

then fucking JEFF DENLON shows up and i remember either mentally or physically throwing my hands up like "ok now i REALLY dont know whats going on"

I remember I was still excited by the thrill of it, just completely lost as to who was who and what the fuck was going on.

as Eric Matthews was yelling "WHO'S COMING THROUGH THAT DOOR?" i remember going "I DONT KNOW, MAN!!!!!!"

The Grand Clear-up:

THE REVEAL.

Through the power of the Hello Zepp reveal montage, I finally understood "OHHHH YOU'RE THE DETECTIVE FROM THE BEGINNING!!!"

i had other confusions that i eventually worked out, but I went into Saw V much more clear on who was who. There was Hoffman the evil detective, and Strahm the jerk FBI guy (who I then softened up to throughout V, no longer thinking he was a jerk)

and, if I couldn't physically tell who was on screen because I still struggled a little bit with that... I looked for Strahm's bandage :)

and thats my story lmao...

anyway finding out just how many other people mixed them up or confused them or couldn't tell them apart makes me feel so validated thank u. i understand u

[fanaticsnail]

Left Behind - Snails Rambling Fic Thoughts

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @sordidmusings @writingmysanity

Notes: I think I like writing fanfic and rambling about this so much because I really got into playing mermaids, fae and princesses as a child 💀.

Also, considering the last thoughts I had on this concept was on Kid's side, I wanted to know how it would look from the other perspective.

Not a fic, just purely a concept - but a long one.

Okay, okay, okay.

But imagine being a Kid-Pirate who was left behind by your captain after he declared he was going to take on Red-Haired Shanks. He left you behind, specifically, because you were the only one who opposed him.

“That is the stupidest fucking idea you've ever had,” you'd voice your reprimand alongside your concern, “He is one of the emporers. He has a crew far stronger than we are. He has an Armada he could call for backup. His Haki is-.”

And after you've aired your opposition, Eustass Kid brushes them aside; convincing you that he'd given up on the idea. He sends you away to gather inventory, casting off and weighing anchor the minute you're out of sight.

And then the chaos, the havok, the injury, the mayhem.

Suddenly your captain is missing an arm, his skin is scorched and mutilated. There's crewmen missing, there's so much blood.

After you regroup with your troop, you rush to your captain and embrace him as he falls to his knees. He whispers between sobs, clutching at your shirt with his remaining fist.

“You were right,” he attempts to embrace you completely, his phantom limb joining behind your back as he attempts to join his wrists together, “You were right. I should have listened. I should have never left you behind.”

He expects your scolding, he expects your wrath, he expects, awaits and anticipates the screams of fury erupting from your lungs.

In it's stead, all you do is lower your tone and elevate his face with your two hands caressing his scarred skin. His cheeks were streaked with tears, his eyes full of glossy sorrow. You’d glare down at him through half-hooded lashes, your lip curling up as your silent rage begins in a low whisper.

“I will destroy them,” you'd confess in a tone darker than the dead of night, “They will bend until they break, their blood will ignite beneath the flames of my wrath.”

Eustass Kid would never see a rage akin to this for as long as he lives. A rage that fuelled your retribution enough to have you break away from your crew and live in solitude while you trained and readied your body to weaponize your grief .

He had left you behind, after all. Why should you continue to claim him as captain as he so easily was able to cast you aside? Although now he is no longer captain to you, he will always be mentioned in the same breath as ‘friend,' or even 'lover.'

Names, faces and titles would be committed to memory. Your persona as an assassin to invoke your revenge would have you take new names and titles of your own. You would practice by taking out some lesser captain's and their crews, claiming bounties and training against Haki-users to develop one of your own.

When you finally feel ready enough to begin picking off members of the Red-Hair pirates, Shanks immediately would sense a game is afoot. He would start off by having his sharp-shooter constantly be on guard and ready for you. That would be fine, you'd trained your body to work tirelessly. Had Yasopp? The closure of his eyes and the slow rise and fall of his chest would state otherwise.

Although it would be far easier to take out their Doctor or their Chef first, your eyes would immediately draw their focus to the first mate. What is a pinky toe to the whole body of a crew? Why should you devote your time to such digits, when you had a window to take out Shanks’ right hand first?

As you'd disguise yourself beneath the shroud of Beckman's shadow, your shock would be adamant when a slow chuckle rattled in his smoke-riddled lungs. As you’d elevated your dagger, readying your blade to strike him in the back, he'd speak up.

“So this is the one that was left behind?” he'd sigh drawing up the filter end of his cigarette, placing it in his lips, “The Kid-Pirate that stood up to their Captain. Left behind for showcasing nothing but loyalty.”

You'd halt your plunge, feeling Beckman’s Haki begin to ignite and compel your body to bend to his will. You'd shake it off, readying yourself to dive forward and take out the larger man once again.

“You took his arm,” your dark, venomous confession would ignite a small amount of fear in the base of his spine, “You mutilated my crew.”

“Aye, that I did,” Beckman would confess, a man of honor amongst invoking such violence, “But you were left behind. Are they really your crew if they left you so easily?”

“They loved me,” your reflection would cause your heart to flutter, and lip to quiver.

“Or did they think you too weak to carry out the task?” his ignition of the flint-lock lighter would break you from your trance, eyes narrowed and glaring at him as he would turn to meet you.

“I don't think you're weak,” Beckman’s confession would have you stumble more, not anticipating praise as your blade now met against his wide chest.

“And why should I care what you think?” you'd spit at him, drawing your body closer as the threat of your blade made its steel kiss the pectoral above his heart, “You're the enemy. You hurt him, my crew, and you deserve death.”

“That may be true,” he'd confess, leaning against your blade to test the resolve of your threat, “But you deserve so much more than abandonment in response to your loyalty.”

“You deserve a crew that would have you'd back,” he'd continue, “A crew that would seek to train you up, uplift you, and never forsake you.”

“I suppose you mean ‘your crew,’ Beckman?” you'd snarl, your resolve beginning to crack and scatter, “I would rather die.”

“Join us. Learn from us, then leave us,” he'd suggest, “Return to your former captain," he'd exhale a long breath of smoke away from your face, "See if they're worthy of having you as their family, or if you'd rather stay with a new, more respectful, one."

Tldr: Eustass Kid abandoned you, returning only when he was defeated and asking for your forgiveness. You didn't grant him forgiveness, but offered him retribution instead. Training for 3 long years, you had finally readied yourself to destroy the red-hair pirates. As you were about to invoke it, you were offered a place amongst the crew you swore you'd defeat. They want to train you to be better than them, a wildcard in a world of piracy.